Cassie

 

“It’s your turn.”

I looked up from my phone to find Elijah waiting impatiently for me to roll the dice and move my character across the Clue! gameboard. It was one of five board games I’d dug out of Grandmama’s closet to bring with me, and I’d been horrified (okay, maybe not horrified, but slightly appalled) to discover Eli had never even heard of Clue!

“Sorry,” I said, properly chagrined.

“Are you texting my dad?”

“I am. He just wanted to know what we were up to.” I reached for the dice and took my turn. I had a pretty good feeling about Ms. Scarlet, in the library, with the lead pipe. Since it was Eli’s first time playing, I was taking it easy on him and giving him a chance to come to the same conclusion. Instead of moving my piece toward the center of the board to solve, I traversed the distance into the study and made another wild guess.

In the end, it only took Eli three more turns to solve it. He did a victory dance when he won the game.

“That was so much fun. I’m going to ask my dad if we can buy this game. I think he’d love it.”

“I think so too,” I said with a smile as Eli helped me to gather up all the pieces and return them to the box. Once the lid was on, I asked, “What’s next?”

“Follow me.” He grabbed my hand and dragged me up and toward the back of the house. I was beginning to doubt I had the energy to keep up with this kid all night. We climbed trees. We kicked an old soccer ball that had been partially hidden in the bushes and had seen better days—most likely left behind by some other family. We played tag, where I was “it” almost the entire game. When I couldn’t chase him another second, I collapsed to my back in the grass.

“I give up, you win. You’re too fast for me.”

He giggled triumphantly and then asked if I wanted to play ninjas next, so we kicked and karate chopped invisible ninjas in the backyard until the sun began its descent in the sky. When I’d defeated my final ninja foe, I looked to Eli, who appeared to be taking on an entire ninja army with a stick.

“You ready for dinner yet?” I called.

I wasn’t surprised when he froze, announced the battle was over, dropped the stick, and made a beeline for the back door. He’d already retrieved a pizza from the freezer and was holding it up with a pleading grin when I made it inside. I took the box from him.

“You go find us something to watch while I get this thing cooking.”

I preheated the oven, and then for shits and giggles, I took a picture of the pizza, still in the plastic wrap, going into the microwave. I sent it to Nikolai, along with a text asking how long I should cook it for because the box didn’t have microwave instructions. My phone rang within a few seconds.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working, not on your phone?” I answered.

“Tell me you didn’t really put a pizza, wrapped in plastic, in the microwave.”

“Don’t worry, I pulled the plastic off after I noticed it melting. It’s not like the TV dinner plastic.” What I’m pretty sure was a growl, or a really exasperated groan, came through the phone next.

“Relax, I’m screwing with you. The oven is preheating now, and the plastic is in the garbage.”

“I’ll relax when I can quit worrying about what you’re doing with my kid.” He was so fucking grumpy. He needed to lighten up.

“You really have zero faith in me.” I acted as if this shocked me. It didn’t, but it might have stung a little.

“You haven’t earned it sweetheart. You’ve done nothing to convince me you’re capable of anything besides pouring coffee and aggravating everyone around you. That, and spreading your lips and legs for me. Now that I think about it, I liked you better naked. You weren’t such a bitch then.”

It was a verbal punch to the gut. “Well maybe if you weren’t such an up-tight, asshole with an ego out of proportion with your tiny penis, I’d be nicer!”

I didn’t even give him the chance to respond before I jammed my finger against the screen of my phone to end the call.

A minute later, I was still breathing hard and my eyes were burning with tears I refused to shed over him as I mentally tried to ease myself down off the ledge. Before I could fully calm down, my phone vibrated in my hand. When I read the message, I wanted to throw it.

I think you know my penis isn’t tiny. You’re just being petty now because I only gave it to you the once.

I hated him. I really, really hated him and his considerable penis. I couldn’t believe I let my guard down with him even for a second, thinking we could get along. It was the stupid girl in me that wanted to find something decent in him and wanted to be liked. But he wasn’t decent, and I hoped he got some flesh-eating disease that made his dick fall off.

I texted him exactly that, and then left my phone in the kitchen while the pizza cooked. I joined Eli in the living room and put a smile on my face even though Nikolai’s comments still burned. I didn’t want to care what he thought of me. I didn’t want it to bother me so much. Much worse was said by the online trolls—which is why I didn’t do social media anymore—but what Nikolai said hurt more.

Being an emotional eater, I shoved everything I was feeling down with several slices of pizza and an entire row of Oreos. We watched back to back episodes of his favorite show until the clock neared bedtime. When I suggested we go upstairs and make his bed, he pulled out the puppy dog eyes, same icy blue as his dad’s, only somehow warm and affectionate unlike his father’s, and he pleaded with me to build a fort in the living room.

Unable to resist those big eyes and pouty lips, we gathered every blanket, sheet, and pillow we could find, dragging chairs and moving furniture, all to create the most epic blanket fort any kid had ever seen. Only, I wasn’t a master builder.

The end result was a relatively decent blanket fort that took up the main portion of the living room. It sagged a little at one end, but Eli was pleased with our efforts and that’s all that mattered.

“Will you read to me?” He asked once he’d made a little nest for himself inside the fort.

“Of course.”

He retrieved a book from his Batman backpack and held it out to me. It was bent and worn and when I took it from him, I could tell some of the pages were loose. We both ducked inside the fort and he curled up on my lap while I read. He mouthed most of the words along with me, without ever glancing at the pages, like he knew this book by heart. It was about a mother who loved her son so much that every night when he went to sleep she sang the same song to him, even into adulthood, until finally the day came when she had aged and could no longer hold her grown son in her arms, and so the man held his mother and sang the song to her, and then carried on the tradition with his daughter. It was literally the sweetest story I think I’d ever read, but there were tears falling down Eli’s cheeks when I closed the book.

“My mom used to read that to me,” he hiccupped, doing his best to hold back the cries that I knew were building in his chest. “I miss her. I want her to come back. I don’t want her to be in Heaven.”

I had no words for this. I wouldn’t know what to say to an adult, let alone a child dealing with this grief. The only thing I could do was set the book down and curl my arms around his tiny body and tell him that it was okay to miss her, and it was okay to cry. And he did. He cried for a long time until eventually he cried himself out of tears and fell asleep still curled in my lap.

Shifting him onto the pile of blankets he’d made a bed in, I covered him up and then finally let myself feel the exhaustion that had been trying to creep up on me. It was both mental and physical. Rather than climb out of the fort and onto the couch, I just curled up right where I was, beside the sweet little boy who made my heart break.

I must’ve been more exhausted than I thought, because the next thing I knew, someone was coming in the front door. I glanced at a still sleeping Elijah and then sat up, registering the minor aches and protests in my body from falling asleep on the floor. I crawled out of the fort and was faced with a pair of legs like tree trunks, clad in black denim and black boots, the signature color of the devil himself.

I lifted my chin and followed those legs all the way up until I was looking into the devil’s frosty blue eyes. I quickly pushed myself up from my position on all fours and rose to my feet. He was a little too close for comfort and I took a step back. I was still pissed at him. Distance between us could only be good.

“Things went all right tonight?”

“Yes,” I said curtly, my voice raspy with sleep.

“And all this?” he waved a hand at our blanket architecture.

“He wanted to build a fort.”

Nikolai nodded, and then glanced away briefly.

“Well, I guess I’ll be going.” I looked around for my purse and phone.

“Listen, about earlier on the phone . . .”

Oh no, he didn’t get to apologize now. “Call me if you need me to watch Eli again, otherwise we have nothing to talk about. Have a shitty night, Nikolai.” I snagged my belongings from the coffee table and attempted to brush past him, but before I could bolt out the front door, he caught my arm in a gentle but firm grasp.

“I already did, and I’m trying to apologize now if you’d just listen.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I jerked my arm free and he let me. “We both know how the other feels. No need for apologies.” Whatever half-assed one he issued now wouldn’t be sincere anyway.

His jaw ticked, and I knew he was biting back the impulse to growl at me some more. “Yes, there is. I shouldn’t have said what I did. My client was being . . . challenging tonight,” he said as if that wasn’t the word he would have preferred to use. “I couldn’t go off on her, so I lashed out at you, instead.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” I just wanted out of there.

“I mean it, I know it’s a shit excuse, but I am sorry for what I said.” He glanced at the fort again. “You’re good with him.”

“Thank you. That actually means something, and I believe you’re sorry you said what you did, but we both know you meant it. So, your apology is still shit. And I meant what I said. I hope your dick falls off.” With that, I was done, and this time when I headed for the door, he didn’t stop me.

Closing the door behind me, I sagged against it and my head fall back. I drew in a deep breath and when I let it out, I let the humiliation go as well. I had enough people out there trying to make me feel like shit, he didn’t get to be one of them. The people I let into my life were supposed to be safe. I wasn’t supposed to take scorn and judgement from them too.

He had no idea how big of a deal my night with him was. He was the first person since . . . since . . . God, even in my own head I couldn’t bring myself say his name. Being with Nikolai was supposed to set me free. That was me taking back control from the bastard who’d made me feel like I had none. Yes, I knew it was only a hookup, but I’d still trusted Nikolai not to be cruel. The way he’d kicked me out was harsh, but the way he’d looked at me ever since was worse. He made me feel like nothing. Ever since he-who-shall-not-be-named, I’d had all these fears and doubts rolling around in my head, telling me how pathetic I was. What a disgusting fool I was. How I’d never deserve something special and wonderful now. That I wasn’t worth anything anymore. Nikolai drove them all deeper. Every damn time.

But who decides what another human being is worth?

Shouldn’t we decide our own worth? And live on our own terms? Life was too hard and too short to try and live it on anyone’s else’s.

I got into my car with the intention of driving home, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about the spiral my life had taken. I thought about the cute guy who came into the shop last week, and how quickly I shot him down. I thought about the stack of resumes still sitting on my dresser, because I kept finding excuses not to drop them off. I didn’t want to take chances. I didn’t want to face rejection. I didn’t want to disappoint or let anyone else down. I didn’t want to be talked about or noticed at all. But what good was it doing me?

Elle King’s America’s Sweetheart came on the radio and I reached for the knob to turn it up. Her gritty voice filled the car and the rebellious lyrics stirred something in the pit of my stomach. At the chorus, I cranked it up louder and started banging out the beat on my steering wheel.

“What do you want from me?” I belted out in all of my anger and frustration.

The lights of a bar I used to frequent near the college campus glowed up ahead.

“Gonna lose control tonight,” I sang along. I already felt out of control. On fire, like I really could just light a match and burn the whole town down like the lyrics said.

Fuck everyone.

But especially, fuck Nikolai Markov.

I pulled into a parking spot in front of the bar and sat there, singing along more softly. “What do you want from me, I’m not America’s Sweetheart.”

Before I could rethink it, I turned off the car, unclipped my seatbelt and got out. I pulled my jacket tighter around me when the chilly air hit my exposed skin. It wasn’t quite cold enough to sting yet, or frost the ground, but I shivered as I hurried toward the bar entrance.

Top forty was playing when I pushed my way inside. The crowd was pretty typical for a Thursday night. Crowded but not packed. Mostly college age—the pre-weekenders getting a head start on their Friday. Almost nobody paid attention to me as I worked my way to the bar. I pulled out an empty stool and slid onto it. I slapped my hand down on the bar and nodded at the bartender.

Within minutes I had a drink in front of me and I was taking stock of who was around me. I sipped and watched, until eventually I zeroed in on a group of three guys, all roughly my age, relatively attractive, and athletically built, a few seats down. They’d animatedly been talking sports until the first one noticed they had my attention. He subtly nudged his buddy and eyed me until they were all looking my way. I gave them a flirty little grin and then went back to my drink, waiting to see who would be the one brave enough to move in first. I’d leave them to figure it out.

Nerves played with my tummy, but I ignored them. I was just a girl in a bar. They were just guys in a bar. My life, my terms, zero fucks given, I reminded myself.

Starting tonight.

See, I didn’t need a shrink. I was doing just fine on my own with this taking back my life shit.

I didn’t need therapy. All I needed was another drink, courtesy of the sandy-haired Casanova headed my way. I couldn’t say I was displeased that he was the one to sidle up next to me.

“You having a good night?” he asked through an easy-going smile.

“It’s starting to look up,” I answered, tipping back the last of the rum and soda in my glass.

“I’m Sam,” he said.

I set my glass back on the bar and stuck my hand out. “Cassie.”

He took it and then pointed at my empty glass. “Can I get you another one of those, Cassie?”

I nodded, and he flagged down the bartender. “What’re you drinking?”

“Rum and root beer,” I supplied.

He ordered my drink as well as a Jack and coke for himself. He eventually slid onto the stool beside me and we sat and drank and chatted. It was nothing magical, but I found myself loosening up and having a good time. We laughed, and the more we drank, the more we laughed, until after my fourth, I told him I had to stop before I couldn’t keep my ass on my stool. The drunker he got, the looser he was with the compliments, until every word out of his mouth was an ode to my beauty and hotness. “Casanova” may have been giving him too much credit as he wasn’t especially smooth or gifted with the charm, but he was sweet enough and not at all shy.

“I want to kiss you so bad,” he leaned in to murmur drunkenly in my ear, keeping himself from tipping off his stool by placing a hand on the edge of mine.

I turned my cheek into his to whisper back in his ear. “Want to come back to my place?”

That had been the ultimate goal tonight. Prove that I wasn’t broken. That I wasn’t afraid. Prove that I didn’t care what Nikolai or anyone else said or thought.

And get fucking laid so that my last experience wasn’t that asshole. I wanted to erase him. Wipe that night from existence, or at the very least, quit replaying it in my mind.

Sam with the drunk brown eyes didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even stop to tell his friends where he was going. They’d figure it out.

It took us longer to drunkenly request a ride from the ride app than it did for the driver to arrive. Neither of us was in any condition to get behind the wheel, but my place was a little too far to stumble our way there on foot. We slid into the back of Peter’s silver Corolla, both of us heady with the effects of alcohol and what we knew was going to happen as soon as Peter delivered us to our destination.

Sam’s large and adept hand caressed and squeezed my thigh while his brain and eyes were already several moves ahead. He watched me like he was already seeing me without my clothes on. I felt beautiful and desired. I felt needy and wanton and excited. And a teeny bit smug, because somehow this felt like sticking it to Nikolai. I wasn’t sure why, because it wasn’t like he gave two shits what or who I did, but my drunken brain didn’t require logic or reason.

Peter dropped us at my place with a knowing smirk on his face. Even Peter knew I was going to get laid. I took Sam’s hand and dragged him to my front door where I fumbled with the key until the lock gave way and we were finally in. I smacked around on the wall until I found the switch that illuminated the entry in a dim glow. I dumped my keys and my purse on the little table just inside, and then took both of Sam’s hands in mine and began leading him backward through the house. I tripped slightly on the transition from hardwood to carpet, but managed not to land on my ass. I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped, and Sam grinned.

“Is it just you that lives here?” he asked.

For a fraction of a second, fear seized my heart and made stomach lurch. Was he making sure we were alone and that there was no one to stop him from carrying out some depraved and deranged plan?

Calm your tits, another voice spoke up. He was probably just asking because it wasn’t typical for someone our age to own or rent a house alone.

“I live with my grandmother, but don’t worry, her room is down there.” I pointed toward the hall that led away from the stairs where I was dragging him. “And she’s a heavy sleeper.”

“We could have gone to my place,” he said, but allowed me to keep pulling him along.

“Here is better,” was all I said. Here I felt safe and in control. His place was too much of an unknown. There I wouldn’t be in control at all.

We quickly thudded our way up the steps, and it really was a good thing my grandmother wasn’t a light sleeper. I dragged Sam into my bedroom and kicked the door shut behind us. We stumbled our way through the dark, pulling at each other’s clothes, until we hit the bed and collapsed onto the queen-sized mattress. It felt like sinking into a pile of cotton candy, only not sticky.

The phone in my pocket jabbed at me and I slid it out, intent on discarding it on the nightstand, until I noticed I had an unread text message from none other than the asshole I wanted to fuck out of my head. Not fuck him of course, that’s what Sam was for.

You forgot something.

Forgot something? What the hell did he think I forgot? What was he playing at?

“Hold on,” I whispered and pushed at Sam’s face as he tried to kiss me all over. He caught my hand and continued to lay sloppy kisses all over my neck and shoulder. I ignored him and hit the call button next to Nikolai’s stupid name. His stupid, masculine, Russian name.

“Yes?” he answered groggily.

“Now you listen here, I know for a fact I didn’t forget anything, except maybe to tell you how stupid I think you are, and what a dumb name Nikolai is.” At this point, Sam, figuring out that I wasn’t into his neck kissing, sat up. “And that you’re a dick. With a tiny dick. Sam’s dick is waaaay bigger than yours, and I wouldn’t touch your dick again for a million dollars. Or ten million dollars.”

“Who the fuck is Sam?” he asked as if he had no idea why he was supposed to care. “Are you drunk?”

I paused. “I’m unsober, but that is not the point,” I giggled. “Sam is the nice gentleman I met at the bar tonight, and he’s going to fuck me so good, I won’t even remember you in the morning. So there.”

“Good luck, pet,” he chuckled darkly, “if you think a drunken roll in the sack is going to make you forget all the things I did to you. All the ways I made you come. That’s the difference between us, I’m not easily forgotten.”

I gasped. “You . . . you are too! I had to fake it with you!”

He laughed again. “Nice try, I know the difference, and you came so hard you nearly blacked out, was it two or three times?”

“You’re an arrogant sonuvabitch! And I hate you. And you don’t get to talk to me anymore and treat me like shit and make me feel worthless. Nope, I’m not going to let you. I’m taking my power back tonight, because nobody puts baby in the corner.”

“As much fun as this has been, I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying. I only texted you because you left a stack of fucking board games on my dining room table.”

“Oh. Those. I did forget those, didn’t I?”

“Yes. You did.”

“Ummm, you can just drop them off at the shop.”

“Have fun with Sam and his little prick.”

“It is not little!” I snapped, but he’d disconnected the call.

Sam was sitting a few feet from me now, looking a little unsure. “Do you want me to go?”

“No. I want you to get back over here.” I grabbed a handful of his shirt and dragged him to me. He came willingly and then we were just a tangle of limbs falling backward on the mattress, rolling, grunting, gasping, and laughing as we struggled to remove each article of clothing, until we were skin on skin.

The next morning, when I kicked Sam out of my bed at the crack of dawn, before Grandmama woke, I wished I could say it’d been an unforgettable night, but the truth was, I had no clue. I think that in and of itself was pretty telling. Sure, I could blame the alcohol, but I still think if it’d been truly incredible sex, I would at least remember some of it. But my mind went fuzzy not long after the phone call with Nikolai. Now, most of that I remembered, and when I was alone in my bed, Sam long gone, I cringed thinking back on it.

Well, if he didn’t think I was pathetic before, I was sure he did now.

But what did I care?